Willed
by K Hanna Korossy
Summary: Time Is On My Side missing scene: He'd just heard Sam's kidnapping...or murder.


**Willed**  
K Hanna Korossy

_ "Dean, I think it may be doable. I mean, I know we've hit a lot of walls, but I-I mean, I think this formula, I think it might be it. This could save you."_

The hope in Sam's voice was infectious, and the words _save you _echoed in Dean's head. But not being able to die? Was he the only one who had serious doubts that this would be his out from the deal? "Okay, so this formula—"

_ "Wait, well, look, look, we're-we're not in the clear yet. There are still things that I don't get—"_

Sam cut off with a clatter, like he'd dropped the phone. There were distant sounds, what sounded like a breathy grunt. Dean frowned. "Sam?"

The muffled sounds continued. Dean's pulse sped up; this wasn't just Sam being a klutz. Sam had found Doc Frankenstein's lab and stolen his notes. What if the good doc had come to get them back?

Dean pressed harder on the gas, mouth dry. "Sammy?"

The thumping and muted utterances faded, then stopped.

"Sam!" But even as he barked out the name, Dean knew. A wave of cold, slick sweat broke out over his body. He knew he'd either just heard Sam's kidnapping…or his murder.

Dean reluctantly broke the open line, snapping his useless phone shut and rubbing the back of his hand over his mouth. No, no, the doc liked his patients fresh and breathing. Benton would probably haul Sam back to his place and scavenge him for parts. Which…was still totally screwed, but at least it gave Dean some time. Knowing Sammy, he had notes on top of notes about where he'd found the doc's place; Dean just had to follow his trail.

Sure, piece of cake. Dean swore under his breath and tossed his phone onto the empty seat beside him.

He'd known this had been a bad idea from the start. Not just using the doctor's freaky science to try to save Dean, but them splitting up, Sam following up on Benton while Dean went after Bela. He'd known it, felt his steps drag as he'd walked out of the room, leaving Sam behind. But…he only had three weeks left. Sam would be alone after that, permanently. Sure, he'd have Bobby, but Dean had no doubts his little brother would soon be taking off on his own, burying his grief in dangerous solo hunts. And there'd be no one to come to the rescue next time a Doc Benton snatched him.

Dean's grip on the steering wheel was so tight, his knuckles ached.

No. No way was he going down to the Pit just to have Sam follow him. That was the only thing that made this bearable: seeing the walking, talking, living result of his deal. Sam had to survive him or it had been for nothing, and that, beyond death and Hell, was too much to bear.

Dean squeezed his eyes shut, then glanced sideways at his phone. A moment's consideration and he reached for it blindly, eyes back on the road he was racing down. He'd save Sam this time, but next time…

He didn't even look at which speed dial he was pushing; it didn't matter, he planned to try them all.

"Hey, Jeff? I need a big favor, dude—I'm callin' in all my chips…"

00000

It was the third time he'd caught Sam making phone calls on the sly, and Dean had a sneaking suspicion it was Ruby on the other end.

He hadn't quite bought Sam's story about going out for a burger the second night Dean had been back from the dead. But then there'd been the whole showdown with the Witnesses at Bobby's, and an unexpected little stint in the hospital afterward. Sam had taken off then, too, overwhelmed by almost losing Dean again so soon, but Dean was pretty sure he hadn't gone far. And he'd been in Dean's sight ever since, hovering like an overprotective hen with one chick. He wasn't hanging out with the witch bitch, but he was still hiding something, and it was Dean's big brother duty to find out what.

So the next time Sam was in the shower, Dean _borrowed_ his phone.

Twenty-one saved messages. Dean's eyebrows rose.

The first five were from him, from _before_. The fifth was the one Dean had left while watching the last sunrise he thought he'd ever see, saying everything except what he wanted to most of all but knowing Sam would get it anyway. Wasn't so surprising Sam had saved that message. The other four, however, were random things, reminders to bring pie and to meet up in an hour and to put the books away and get some sleep, Sam. The stupid everyday kind, and the fact Sam had saved them all lodged a lump in Dean's throat. He carefully preserved them again and kept going.

"_Sam, I know you're getting these messages. Call me—just want to know you're still breathing. Please, son." _

Bobby, sounding hushed and pained. Dean grimaced and moved on.

"_Sam, it's Ellen. Call me, sweetie." _

"_Hey, dude, where are you? Let's meet up, hoist a few in Dean's name, huh? Had to get a new phone—number's 240-555-6380. Call me." _

"_Sam, it's Jeff. Getting worried about you, kid—drop me a line, huh? Dean would have my hide if anything happened to you—don't forget you've still got friends, all right? I'll be talking to ya."_

"_Sam, hi. It's Sarah. Dean told me what happened…"_

And on they went, one message after another of concern and friendship, of promises kept, or at least attempted. Dean kinda doubted Sam had returned any of the calls, but the fact he'd kept them meant something, too, right?

"Kinda felt at first like they were rubbing it in, you know?"

Sam's unexpected voice had Dean jerking around.

His brother, barefoot in jeans and a t-shirt, stood in the bathroom doorway scrubbing his hair dry. He tossed the towel onto his bed and crossed over to Dean to pluck the phone from his hand. Sam stared at it impassively. "You were dead and in _Hell_, and you were still worried about _me_."

Dean's mouth opened and closed. "Sorry?" he finally ventured. Hadn't exactly been his intent, but the thought made his chest kinda ache.

Sam's mouth unexpectedly ticked up. "Don't be. I must've listened to each one of these about a hundred times. It was like…you were still looking out for me, you know? Like you weren't totally gone." He huffed a laugh. "Guess I can erase them now, huh?"

Dean swallowed, then reached up and closed his hand gently around Sam's. He tugged the phone free and slipped it into Sam's pocket. "Never can have too many reminders people care about you, Sammy."

Sam looked up at him, eyes bright. "Yeah," he echoed softly. Neither of them were talking about their friends, and they both knew it.

And even when Dean did find messages from Ruby later, when he'd seen with his own eyes what Sam had been up to during those four months of Hell, Dean remembered twenty-one other saved messages…and felt more grief than anger.

**The End**


End file.
